


Bloodline

by ApollonisMousa



Category: Original Work
Genre: (not in the traditional way), Climate Calamity, Fallen Angels, First Kiss, First Love, Inspired by Poetry, Multi, Post-Apocalypse, Single Parents, Supernatural Elements, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:35:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25444039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApollonisMousa/pseuds/ApollonisMousa
Summary: Seven Heirs fight to bring equilibrium back to a world devastated by the climate calamity, but as they get closer to the focal point, an age-old secret threatens to herald in a new age of Darkness.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character, Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Kudos: 3





	1. Prologue: The Nascency of Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> First Original Work on the Archive :) Mostly publishing it to motivate myself into writing more, but if you do read it, I hope you enjoy it :)
> 
> The poem referenced in the Prologue is an extract from 'The Tyger' by William Blake

When the stars threw down their spears 

And water'd heaven with their tears: 

Did he smile his work to see? 

Did he who made the Lamb make thee? 

* * *

It was the stars that caught her attention first.

She was sitting by herself near the lake, her face lifted to the sky, the bright blotch-mark of sunlight red against her closed eyelids. Her fingers trailed listlessly across the surface of the still waters, and silence enveloped her in its embrace. The world radiated endlessly from where she sat, and the sky descended to kiss the grass in a horizon that swept around her in an unbroken circle. Life flourished endlessly around her; death did not exist in paradise. Her mind was blank. No thoughts filtered through it; there was no need for them in paradise.

She did not know what made her look at the lake. Maybe it was a bird, flying recklessly close to the water, its clawed talons breaking the surface of the water. Maybe it was the sudden discordant note in the song of creation, a jarring clang in that everlasting rhyme that should have warned her to stay away. Maybe it was the sudden freezing cold benumbing her hand as it swirled the water. Whatever it was, she looked down, and saw the starlight. The water, mirror-smooth, had darkened, as if an ocean of purest night lay beneath its surface. Stars dotted the darkness, forming unknown constellations. That was already strange. It was never night here. But this was no mere darkness; it was a portal. She drew her hand out of the water as if it had suddenly turned boiling hot. Portals were not allowed here. No one could leave paradise. It was unheard of even to think of such a thing; it was treason.

Theoretically, she knew of stars, knew of their existence and of how they came to be, but she had never looked up and beheld them for herself. The Divine had often mentioned their beauty, but it was only through a portal that one could see them, and because portals were forbidden, so, in turn, was the night sky. She tried to get up, to leave the darkness behind, but her will floundered. She turned to the stars again, feeling an almost magnetic pull towards them. Against her wavering resolve, her hand moved towards them, once more treading through the water until she was stretching out trembling fingers towards the middle of the lake, balancing precariously on her knees, her other hand tangled in the grass, keeping her grounded. Thoughts began filtering into her mind, dangerous thoughts. If only she could touch them, she reasoned desperately, she could perhaps experience what it felt like to bask in their twinkling light, to feel the coolness of the darkness, away from the blazing sun, that unblinking eye.

It wasn’t much use, in the end, to hold on to anything; the choice alone had been enough; the thought of it was condemning. The Fall was already underway.

Her hand had barely touched the edges of the murky darkness before she felt a great pull surge out of its depths. Her hand still grasped uselessly onto blades of grass that had been torn out of the soil even as she fell into the water. She gasped, water filling her open mouth, and yet she did not choke. All around her, blessed darkness consumed her, and swirling maddeningly around her were the stars that had lured her in. Even though she was amongst them, they felt more distant than ever. For the first time, she realised that she was falling. The water had turned viscous; her dress billowed around her in slow-motion, her hair trailing behind her, a blazing white halo in the darkness.

She felt fear ripping through her, and a blinding pain of separation. She did not have to look behind her to know that the doors at her back had been closed forever.

Time sped up to normal in a fraction of a second, and she landed heavily onto the ground. She groaned, the sound of her voice breaking the silence that had greeted her as soon as she became aware that she could hear again, and, more terrifyingly, that her mind was full of questions, of voices clamouring to be heard. Getting up slowly, she brushed her hair out of her face, noticing that her elbows had been scraped in the fall. Impassively, she looked on as a drop of blood trickled down from the wound, falling to the ground.  _ So this is blood _ , she thought.

She turned around and started walking, not noticing that from where her blood had landed, a green shoot had immediately sprouted, leaves pointing in the direction of her receding back.

She walked in no particular direction, the sense of shock fading, bringing with it a flurry of emotions that had, up until that moment, been bottled up inside her in a resoluteness to stop herself from panicking. Questions lined up one after the other, remaining unanswered in her brain. What world had she landed on? What folly had driven her to reach for the unattainable? Looking up at this foreign sky, she noticed that no bright lights pervaded through the foreboding murkiness; the night was absolute. So long had she yearned for a pause in the unrelenting light of the sun. She would give anything to get it back.

Her elbows stung.

She fell suddenly, harsh ground digging into her knees and breaking flesh again, and this time, she screamed. Frustration and grief tore at her heart, fingers tugging blindly at her hair. In her brief moment of madness, she lifted both hands upwards and yelled, incomprehensible words falling from her lips, barely aware of anything except the overwhelming fear of the unknown.

Suddenly, light split the dark sky like an open wound.

It was so sudden that her abrupt, inexplicable madness was forgotten almost as quickly as it had started; there, kneeling on her bloodied knees, hands still outstretched, she gaped at the sky.

A rustle at her knees tore her gaze from above and forced her to look downwards. From where blood had spotted the ground, grass grew. She stared harder, comprehension dawning on her almost in tandem with the sky.

No created creature had the power to create. What had happened to her as she Fell?

She consciously tried to will a portal into existence, and was stunned when it worked. She looked at that blazing whirlpool of light, her mind churning. Only the Divine could create those, only They could create  _ anything _ . What had she become? How had it come to be that she had gained the power of creation? Had the residue of that power, still clinging to the portal that she had fallen through, been passed on to her in her journey through it? Had she gained all of that power? What were the limitations?  _ What was the punishment for such high treason? _

She didn’t wait for answers to come to her. For the first time in a long time, a purpose was born within her heart; the idleness of Paradise dropped from her bones like a snake shedding its old skin. She knew where she wanted to be; now that her access to her age-long home had been lost to her forever, she could go to the land of starlight. If she were to be punished, she might be able to endure it, if only she were to look at the real stars at least once. So it was decided; she would go to the First World, the World loved by the Divine. She braced herself, and plunged in.

She arrived in a blaze of colours, lighting the polar sky with brilliant, strange hues. When she landed, stunned and dazed, she stared up at the twinkling stars and laughed until she cried. When the humans found her, she had altered herself slightly. She had shrunk herself to a more fittingly human size, but she didn’t change much else. She knew humans could dark skin, and she wanted to stay as true to herself as possible. She willfully changed her hair colour from white to black - the first time she had ever done anything solely for her own benefit. However, the humans were still very wary of her. She realised, belatedly, that she had appeared quite suddenly, and that the people here were tribal, so they would know everyone in their community. A stranger like her would immediately cause suspicion. 

What she didn’t expect, however, was that they all went down on their knees in front of her, and lowered their faces to the ground in worship.

They had seen more than she had realised, after all. They had seen her fall through the sky, and they thought one of the stars had landed amongst them. It amused her, in a bitter sort-of way, to think that they mistook her for the one thing she had risked everything for. The First Peoples thus came to respect her, and they named her what in the current language would be translated as Aurora, the Dawn, because she had lit up the night sky like the morning sun. She was something of a living goddess amongst them, although she often tried to dispel the notion, feeling the full weight of the treasonous accusations resting on her shoulders, always waiting for the moment, which she thought inevitable, when her actions will be judged by a single, finite judgement. But when it never happened, she slowly lowered her guard. She gave them gifts, and in turn, they gave her shelter, elated to harbour amongst themselves this fallen star. When she had seen three generations live and die, she left them suddenly, in the night, discovering what a broken heart felt like and not liking it. 

She found a tribe of people in a land far off from where she had first arrived in this world, having travelled by portal to many places and finding home in none. On her arrival, she fought off a pack of wild animals that had attacked her and emerged unscathed and triumphant, her eyes shining fiercely, and so the people there called her Ashanti, the Undefeatable. It was one of the many titles she was given, but it was one of the two she would keep with her forever, alongside Aurora, her first name, changing it according to the language which the people she was currently living with spoke. After all, dawn was ever a common concept amongst all peoples living under the great Sun.

Her longest home was with the tribe that had named her Ashanti. Her dark skin matched theirs, and amongst them, she found a home. They left many stories to their descendants of the beautiful goddess that had lived with them for centuries, but Ashanti, the Undefeated, the Dawn, lived ever more, and finally departed from her home. She took with her their ways and customs, and always, throughout her continued existence, she continued to cherish them, displaying their strength and memory in the way she braided her hair, in the symbols she drew on her face when she fought. After she left them, alone in every sense of the word, stripped from the Divine, her powers isolating her from everyone, she disappeared into the barrenness of a desert. The stars were far away in that period of her life; cold and mocking, they twinkled at her from the sky, and no matter how far she stretched her hands, she could never reach them.

She had resigned herself to dying alone, in some future, unnumbered day, when she would decide to stop using her powers to regenerate her dying body, which had once been so effortlessly full of life. Today would be the day, she would say, and then night would fall and she would still be clinging on to life, trembling at the thought of the empty void that was already waiting for her, of the eternal nothingness that was surely the punishment of one who had committed such terrible treason as herself.

But one day, her resolve was firm, and she was ready for judgement to fall. Steeling herself, she prepared the words that would stop the ages-old spell that kept her alive.

An interruption, a noise in that barren, silent land. The sound of footsteps, and a man, with eyes of blazing fire. And it was not of the metaphorical kind. He blinked, and his eyes looked back at her, green and no longer aflame.

The spell fled from her brain as she acknowledged him. Could it be true? Could there be another of her kind? She knew, instantly, that this wasn’t the case, but she felt it; a distinct pull towards him, as if something in his very making called out to her in its familiarity. Not a Fallen, no, but someone who came from them. There were more like her? Could it truly be? Had there been someone else who shared with her the unbearable burden of separation? 

He looked young, just hit adulthood, but something in the way he held himself spoke of things he should not have seen by that age. “Greetings,” he said, politely, pushing away the hair that had fallen in front of his face in a gust of sudden wind. “I’m Edward. I think you can already tell, but I’m descended from those that Fell. You were not the only one who escaped. But first, I must confirm. Are you truly Ashanti?” Edward seemed to turn red, muttering to his shoes, “My research did not mention your beauty, my lady.” 

Ashanti, alone for what seemed like millennia, and what might have indeed been so in human terms, who had convinced herself that no one would ever see  _ her _ through her unique powers, burst out laughing, the first real joy she had felt since her life amongst her earthly tribe.

“I am Ashanti,” she said, adapting to his language flawlessly, with little effort. “Why do you ask?”

Edward held out his hand. “I would rather show you.” He turned redder, stumbling over his words. “If-if you will, of course.”

Ashanti, having lost everything, had nothing to lose. She grasped his hand, and together, they disappeared in a flash of fire.

The desert wind blew on, unceasing and uncaring that the world would heave and burn over the course of the near but still uncharted future. The stars, hidden in the depths of the blue sky, twinkled on, unheeding and distant.


	2. Edward

**Part 1** **:** **_Nox est perpetua una dormienda_ **

Long ago, hearing the water from what used to be Manchester, England, was an absurd notion. Standing in that place now, Edward gazed at the water's edge, adjusting the rim of his hat to block out the sun as the waves lapped at his expensive shoes. He looked at the drowned streets, the long-abandoned houses that had been claimed by the ever-rising sea levels, and watched their new inhabitants flash around beneath the surface. The water-level had distinctly reversed its course in the latter years; he could see that some of the ruined houses at the shores of the unnatural sea appeared to still bear the marks of their years below sea. But they were ruined, and there was not enough money in the still-recovering global economy to make them habitable again. Not that it mattered much; between that terrible climate disaster, and the parade of strange diseases that had swept the lands worldwide, a significant portion of the inhabitants of the world had died. But humans were strangely resilient, and once the notion of survival became vital, survive they did. Not only did they survive, but they also managed to thrive in a world that was actively trying to get rid of them.

The climate disaster had been terrible and thorough, but the new policies on safeguarding the ravaged remains of the Earth’s ecosystem meant that the ozone layer was slowly healing itself, and so temperatures had begun to stabilise again. The last few years had shown the greatest improvement, what with the Worldwide Society of Scientists finding a way to boost the ozone layer’s self-regeneration. But the climate disaster had an unexpected advantage: the boundaries between nations fell. As mass immigrations of people who had been flooded out of their homes occurred, many countries opened their borders and allowed people to find shelter in their lands, a thing which did not much help the containment of certain diseases, but which had the long-lasting effect of creating a common nationality. People were no longer bound to their own culture and nationality; many artifacts that carried with them a sense of national identity were lost in that period, either through flooding or through a general disintegration from the unnatural temperatures. The only conveniently portable identifier was language, and to current times, language was still considered almost sacred, the only survivor of a time before the world changed irrevocably. Of course, common languages had arisen over time. Latin reemerged as the  _ lingua franca _ , so to speak, of the Romance languages. It made sense, seeing as the countries that were the worst hit were specifically the countries in which these languages were spoken. Larger countries that were largely mainland survived almost intact, except in such areas where the temperatures rose and fell beyond humanly acceptable limits, so their languages remained mostly intact. 

As the waves hit a bit higher and soaked his socks, Edward realised that he was still staring at the water and was attracting strange looks from passersby. Turning abruptly from the sea’s edge, he walked towards an imposing building, some way off from where the University of Manchester had once been. The building had been built after the sea-rise, one of the newly-sprung buildings that appeared almost overnight. The ruins of the University were still visible, the building in a state of dismal disrepair. The university had been moved further inland when events had settled a bit, and was now thriving once more, but the remnants of the past served as a reminder of what could be, and what could have been worse.

He straightened the collar of his shirt, flattening it against his chest in a nervous habit he had caught recently. His suit jacket was folded neatly over his arm, and his shirt sleeves were rolled fashionably at his elbows. He put a large effort into looking casual, but he felt as far away from the concept as he could possibly feel at that moment. To be fair, anyone who knew Edward would confirm how little he ever achieved the abstractism of the word ‘casual’. His thoughts flitted to Ashanti, who would often make snide remarks about it, and just as quickly, he shut them off. No use getting distracted now. The building he was about to step into required him to be composed. 

The hospital’s daunting, blank walls loomed over him, the building identical to several across the country, and indeed the world, a relic of the times when the rate of hospitals being built could still not catch up to the amount of people in need of one. This hospital was currently undergoing the necessary procedures to be shut down after years of hard work, with newer, better hospitals finally having been built further inland. Despite this, it was still very busy, although admittedly not as much as it used to be, back in its heyday. Even without stepping in, Edward could hear the usual clamour of voices emanating from within. He looked up at the monotonous, familiar building, with its whitewashed walls and wide windows that covered most of the surface area of the facade. Today might finally be the last time he’d have to walk into this building. 

He steeled himself, and removed his hat, stepping up to the doors and waiting for them to swing slowly inwards. He ran a casual hand through his hair, knowing that it would only make it look worse but, being a creature of (bad) habit, still doing it anyway. He walked up to the front desk, trying to discreetly blow a blonde curl out of his eye and not quite managing it. He made the effort to dislodge it with his hand, tucking it behind his ear while stopping in front of the bored-looking receptionist. She barely spared him a glance, her eyes glazing over almost as soon as she looked at him. “He’s with the children,’ she said, turning back to her book and flipping over a page as if Edward had merely been a fly that had unfortunately landed on her desk.

Edward nodded genially and strode off, secretly grateful that he hadn’t had the need to make any awkward small-talk. Small-talk was his twin brother’s domain, one of the more successful traits he had inherited. Although truthfully, one could say, William’s traits were all more or else better than Edward’s. That suited Edward fine. He didn’t much want to be his brother; in fact, he took very careful steps to look as opposite to Will as possible, a thing made all the more difficult by their uncannily identical feature. Running his hand over his scratchy chin (Will could never grow facial hair successfully), he made his way towards the elevator, so lost in thought that he almost ran over a small child, earning a glare from what presumably was the child’s father. Mumbling an apology, he skirted around the wailing child and hurriedly hopped on to the elevator, inputting the floor without even looking. The elevator was a rickety old thing, and Edward absolutely despised it, but stairs ran a higher risk of meeting people, as everyone generally avoided the elevator due to its tendency to get stuck. Edward, undaunted, resolutely kept using it. 

The good thing about this particular elevator was that it had a mirror. Edward grimaced at the state of his hair, running his hands through it again, parting it to one side and letting it flop in an ungainly manner. He lifted his chin up, stroking his stubble and pondered on whether he should shave it or not. 

The bad thing about this elevator was the annoying music that played in a discordantly cheerful manner all the way up to the top floor, where he needed to go. Stepping outside, he caught himself humming the same annoying tune, and sighed in a disappointed manner. He walked quietly down the length of the corridor, eyes catching on the various brightly painted walls, his heart filling with the usual bitter-tasting emotion which he couldn’t quite name. He remembered a time when these corridors would be full, too full, not just with children and harried parents, but with sadness, grief, distress. Now, there were only the more high-risk children, the ones who had to stay there for the longest time possible, until it was the safest for them to move. 

He could see the person he’d travelled here for through one of the large indoor-facing windows at the far end of the corridor. Edward smiled to himself, seeing him like that. Amongst children, Ian shone. Edward could think of very few occasions in which he had seen Ian smile genuinely outside of the children’s ward, but within the hospital, Ian’s smile never faded. His long, platinum hair was tied in a low bun, strands of it framing his face in a way that was probably accidental but made him look every bit as flawless and effortless as a model, which vaguely annoyed Edward, who spent actual time trying to look effortless and never quite achieved it. Ian was practically floating between children’s beds, and the children clearly gravitated towards him, eyes shining as they listened to whatever he was saying. Ian was only 21, still a medical student, but Edward could tell that the staff respected him by the way they stood off to the side while he spoke, looking at him with very visible pride. Ian in there was just that: Ian, the soon-to-be doctor. Ian Yamamoto, the heir of the Yamamoto family, existed only beyond the hospital walls.

As he approached the nurse sitting at the desk right beside the ward entrance, he stood up and opened the door, smiling at Edward in a friendly manner. “Come in, Mr Murray, Ian is almost done with his shift.”

Edward, a little unperturbed at how the hospital staff seemed to know him so well, slipped into the ward, and Ian barely spared him a glance before he turned his full attention to his children again. Edward leaned against a wall and let out a breath. He wasn’t all that good with people, but here he felt safer. He started to notice several pairs of inquisitive eyes drift to him from the beds, and Ian noticed it too, because he laughed softly. “Edward,” he said, his voice warm, “won’t you join me in saying goodbye?”

Edward lowered his head in mock defeat, and pushed off the wall, coming to a halt next to Ian, who had sat on one of the beds. Edward crouched down, cupped his hands, and blew air on them. This wasn’t necessary, but he found that children liked to have a little extra show when it came to what Edward did. He closed his eyes, and willed his power to manifest. Before he opened his eyes, he could sense the fire dancing around his fingers. He opened them, and looked at the children’s delighted expressions. It was good to remember that his power could be used for beautiful things as well. 

Knowing he had all of the children’s attention, he conjured up animals made out of fire: dogs and cats ran across the room, chasing after each other; birds landed on bed posts and chirped noiselessly at the children; as some children started shouting suggestions, the room began to fill with more and more animals, strange and improbable creatures walking beside the top predators of long-gone jungles. Then, all at once, he snapped his fingers, and the animals all turned into flowers and trees, shimmering and glowing around the children. The children loved this little show, and it was always hard to tear them away from Edward and Ian, and it was even harder for Ian to leave them. As his visits became more numerous, Edward realised it was becoming increasingly harder for him to tear himself away from them as well. 

Ian was standing up, amidst a chorus of sad farewells from the children. It was harder this time, because Ian wouldn't be returning for a while. It was why Edward had come, after all. And he had to admit that it hadn’t been necessary for him to come back to the hospital, but he found it harder to confess that he was going to miss the children. His brother wouldn’t have made the mistake of attaching to people with whom no long-lasting relationship could be formed; then again, his brother had a problem attaching to his own wife, so Edward decided that he was better off. Edward straightened, his knees creaking painfully, and snapped his fingers for the last time, making the flowers burst into the air in a sea of fireworks. Ian, hearing his knees protesting, shot him a smirk loaded with meaning. Edward scrunched his nose back at him, straightening his shirt again and waving at the children. He waited for Ian to go round, thanking the nurses and doctors for his time there, and watched as they imparted advice and well-wishings to him. He then disappeared into the little staff room at the back, coming out wearing his normal clothes, his scrubs neatly folded in his bag. His hair was out of its bun, pulled back in the familiar ponytail that Edward had gotten used to seeing him in. His eyes were blinking rapidly, and when he turned to wave goodbye for the last time, his smile was shaky. Edward squeezed his shoulder, and they walked out. 

Standing next to each other in the elevator, Ian let a tear slip down his cheek. Edward felt immeasurably guilty, and broke the silence. “Ian, this won’t take that long. At least, that’s what Will is saying.”

Ian nodded. “I know. I’m excited for this, Ed, truly, but I love my job too. It’s hard.”

Edward felt his guilt increase tenfold. “If it makes you feel any better,” he said, as the elevator heaved itself open on the ground floor, “I too will miss these kids.”

Ian glanced at him with a half-smile. “You’re getting mushy, Edward.”

“Watch it, Ian.”

They walked in silence, past the reception lady, who had almost finished her book, and Ian spoke again, looking more composed. “Where is it?”

“Out of the country. You’ll need to pack. We leave today, latest tomorrow.”

“Anyone else joining us? Any of the old families? Or just from the Orders?”

“This is big. We’re gonna recon all of the heirs. The Orders are involved too. I have one of Alec’s top officials with me. He’s acting as some sort of bodyguard? I think William wanted someone to check on me, as usual. It’s not like I actually need a car, I can open fire portals for short distances.”

“That’s sad for you. Will’s probably just looking after your aging knees.”

“Ian, you’re on thin ice.”

Ian laughed. “Sorry, Professor.”

“Finally, showing some respect.”

“We’re outside of the Academy, Ed. I think I’m allowed a little leniency.”

Edward shook his head exasperatedly, but didn’t answer. Edward had been close to the Yamamotos even before Ian had started attending the University of Revelations. Ian’s mother, Ayane Yamamoto, the previous power wielder, had attended the University at the same time he had. They had been some of the first students of the University, which had been a relatively new institution when compared to the centuries-old universities that littered the country. They remained close after their graduation, and because they remained in the same country, it was easier to maintain contact. He had seen Ian as a newborn, and had watched him grow. Now that Ian was following in her footsteps, Edward, like an endearing uncle, encouraged him along, especially seeing as he was currently the only student wielding the power attending the University. It wasn’t unheard of for power-wielders to attend University at the same time, but it was often the case that they wouldn’t be of the same age. In fact, out of all the Seven Heirs, only Ian was currently attending the University. One was still too young; the rest had all graduated. That didn’t mean the University only hosted one student; the Order members all attended when they were of age, and usually received their education alongside the power-wielders, with the exception of some classes exclusively catered for the Seven.

“Edward,” Ian said, breaking Edward out of his reverie, “Is that Alec’s guy?”

Edward looked up, squinting as the sun shone unrelentlessly into his eyes. “Yes, that’s him alright.”

Ian wrinkled his nose in distaste. “He looks like a dumb jock. Also, if the sun is getting into your eyes, why don’t you wear your hat? Oh, wait, is age also attacking your eyesight? My sympathies.” 

Ignoring the last part of the sentence, Edward answered, “Because, smartass, we’re going to get into a car soon, and my hair can’t handle being mistreated like that again. Also, try not to pick a fight with Lucas. He may look on the lean side, but you know Alec’s Order is full of Dancers.”

Ian cracked his knuckles threateningly. “I’d like to see him try.”

Edward gave him a crooked smile. “Oh, I’m  _ sure  _ you would.”

Ian flushed. “Die in a ditch,” he muttered from the corner of his mouth as they reached the car. The man was leaning against the car in a way which Edward knew was getting on Ian’s nerves, simply by the stiffness with which he presented his arm. “My name is Ian. Pleased to meet you.”

“Lucas,” said the other man, shaking his hand, a lopsided grin on his tanned face. “I’ve seen you around Uni,” he added, gesturing at Ian’s hair. “You’re not exactly a face one would forget.”

Ian smiled tightly, as if he wanted to say,  _ I wish it was _ . Edward smiled secretly. He knew how much Ian hated the attention. “And why would that be?” The hidden traps in that question shone glaringly obvious for Edward, but Lucas didn’t know Ian as well as his teacher.

Lucas cocked his head to one side thoughtfully. “You’re one of the Seven. Everyone knows you.” He opened the passenger seat and stood off to one side as Ian, slightly deflated, got into the car, followed by Edward, who was trying not to let his smile show. Before he closed the door, Lucas leaned in, smirking, and said, “You’re also very nice to look at.” He closed the door before he could see Ian’s face, a privilege reserved for Edward, who could not stop the grin that split his face in two. Ian, mauve, punched him in his arm, but remained silent. 

Lucas looked back at them through the rear-view mirror, his warm brown eyes full of laughter, and asked no one in particular, “Where to?”

***

Before the climate crisis, the Yamamoto family had lived in considerable wealth. An old Japanese family with a strong line of Light Weaver heirs, they had been considered as one of the ancient noble families ever-recurring down the dynasties. However, after the calamity, the family had taken more modest accommodations, distributing their wealth to funds that helped rebuild the ravaged remains of the earth. Ayane had often reminded her son of this last point, urging him to always put the greater good in front of everything else. Edward, dozing off in the back of the car, remembered how she had married her husband out of the same line of thought. Although they weren’t a bad match, it was not a match made out of any sentiment from the heart. Ian’s father was the most powerful member of the Order of Earth at the time when Ayane was at the prime of her leadership. It was only natural for them to get married, and it was no wonder that Ian’s mastery of his power was so refined. 

As Lucas circled the block of buildings a number of times, desperately trying to find a semblance of a parking spot, Edward snuck a glance at Ian, who was looking out of the window, up towards the top floor. The family owned a penthouse, one of their two homes. The other one was in an inland area in the greatly diminished land of Japan. Edward knew that Ian had spent many years there, which explained his fluency in both Japanese and English, along with half-a-dozen other old, forgotten languages. Edward wasn’t particularly sure why Ian had learned so many; perhaps it was similar in the old times, when people learned dead languages to keep their dead cultures alive. As Lucas swore under his breath as he made another circuit, Ian leaned forward and touched Lucas lightly on the shoulder. “You can drop me off, I doubt it will take long.”

Lucas was about to answer when a car miraculously pulled out from in front of them. Lucas smashed his foot down on the gas pedal, effectively throwing Ian backwards, and slid into the newly-vacant spot with a satisfied smile. “Sorry, you were saying?”

Ian rolled his eyes and opened the car door, slipping out and not waiting for them as he stalked up to the front door. Edward got out after him and walked round the car, stopping at Lucas’ door. “You can come in, you know.”

“I thought you guys would be discussing Light Weaver business?”

“Nothing you don’t already know.” 

Lucas shrugged and got out, locking the car and walking behind Edward. Ian was waiting for them, leaning against the frame of the open front door with a faintly disgruntled expression on his face. “Took you long enough,” he said by way of greeting, turning around and disappearing inside. From halfway up the stairs, he yelled, “Lift’s broken.” Soon, he was beyond their sight. 

Lucas groaned. Edward turned to him with a rare grin. “Your hand, Lucas.”

Lucas looked quizzically at him but obliged, offering his hand without hesitation. Edward took it firmly, and with his other hand traced a perfect circle in the air. Without losing time, he stepped into it, dragging Lucas behind him, and they walked out on a landing just as Ian arrived at the top of the stairs. His face was worth the slight exertion of his powers. 

“You  _ didn’t _ .”

Edward’s grin hadn’t worn off yet. “Oh, but I did.”

Lucas looked as if he’d just gotten off a particularly bumpy roller coaster - elated, but slightly green in the face. “That was extremely cool but somehow equally nauseating.”

“It grows on you with time.”

“You told me that you’re only allowed to use it in ‘serious situations’”, Ian huffed, drawing huge air-quotes with his hands. “I didn’t realise your aging muscles fell under those exceptions.”

Lucas looked delighted at the sudden turn of events; Edward, not so much. He stepped up to the door and knocked, flicking Ian’s ear with his fingers and watching with a satisfied look at Ian’s inability to retaliate as the door opened. 

Ayane’s face softened as she took in their faces, but Edward could see the worry in her eyes. They had all been expecting this call - indeed, it was thought that it would happen much earlier, during Ayane’s generation of descendants. But it had fallen to her child to take her burden. He could see the toll that having no powers, where both her husband, as member of an Order, and her son, as the new Heir, was slowly taking on her, and felt a pang of sadness. Ayane’s eyes skirted to Lucas, who looked painfully out of place but was smiling gamely nonetheless. Ian spared him one pitying glance and walked up to his mother, giving her a kiss on her cheek before disappearing inside. 

Ayane glanced at Edward, a question in her eyes. When he looked back at her steadily, she sighed, her shoulders slumping. “So soon?”

“We’ve been on the edge of something for a while now. It was only a matter of time.”

For one moment, she looked terribly lost. Then, she seemed to collect herself, and moved aside. “It’s useless to discuss this in the hallway,” she said with a small smile. “Come inside.” Edward smiled gratefully and stepped in, and Lucas followed. Edward cringed inwardly, but was pleasantly surprised when Lucas gave a small bow before introducing himself politely. Ayane seemed equally surprised, but she recovered quickly, greeting him with genuine warmth. It seemed that the boy wasn’t completely tactless; perhaps Alec hadn’t been awry when he’d sent him along as his representative. Because that’s why Lucas was really there, after all; Alec was, as usual, too busy with mundanities to show up, although he would always magically materialise if he was ever truly needed.

They followed Ayane into the hallway, which opened up into a spacious open area. Ian was already sprawled on one of the sofas, his hair hanging loose around his shoulders, one hand massaging his scalp and wincing. He drew his hair over one shoulder as the other walked in, his eyes following them as they settled on the sofas. Lucas ended up sitting next to him, and Edward, from the opposite sofa, smiled to himself. This would be interesting.

Lucas, who did not seem to be daunted by Ian in the slightest, turned to him, and asked him in genuine interest, “So, you study medicine?”

Ian looked at him, his facade slipping and then falling completely as he realised Lucas appeared to be as guileless as he looked. “I… yes. I study medicine part-time, and fit in hospital placements whenever I’m able to.”

Lucas looked impressed. “Holy damn, dude, how do you manage to juggle the workload?”

Ian laughed without any real humour. “What makes you think I’m managing? I am  _ so stressed _ that sometimes all I can do is sit down, stare at a wall, and vibrate with anxiety.” He spared a glance at Lucas and winced. “Too much?”

Lucas, who looked as if he wasn’t expecting an answer, let alone the torrent of words that Ian had unleashed, chuckled, his face melting into warmth. “Thank God,” he said, “you’re human after all.” Ian bristled at that, but Lucas continued. “A very impressive human, but a human nonetheless. Good luck, man. If anyone can do it, I get the impression you can.”

Ian’s face was unreadable, but then it softened into an unexpectedly sweet smile before the moment was interrupted by Ayane’s return, her husband trailing after her, glasses askew. Edward could not for the life of him remember his name, but he knew that he was the reason why Ayane settled in what used to be Britain. It was where he had been born, and where his voluminous library was. He was, as far as Edward knew, something of a fanatic when it came to the past history of the Earth, especially the time before the calamity. He knew this because it was from him that Ian got that particular love, with his myriad old languages and maps of how the continents used to look like.

He realised a bit belatedly that they were all looking at him expectantly. He sat up a bit straighter and smoothed the cloth of his waistcoat nervously, and began. “As you all know, the world has ever been under attack by the Dark ones. The Tenebrae, we call them. It falls to us, the Heirs of the Light, and to those touched by Light, the Orders, to deal with them, because Light cancels Dark. Textbook stuff till now, yes? Well, my brother Will and I have been searching for ways to end this threat once and for all. It is only since the University of Revelations was founded that such a large concentration of gifted individuals could be gathered and properly taught, so this endeavour could only happen now. When Will became the rector, by luck, we found Ashanti, a mystery in herself, but whose power exceeds anything we have ever seen. She was the final Heir, the missing piece. Finally, all Seven can be gathered together if necessary. And that time has arrived.

“Will came up with the theory that there are splits in the fabric of this world’s time and space, possibly created by the beings that Fell through. After all, it is how our powers came to Earth. We are Heirs, and therefore there must be a Progenitor. That’s beside the point. Will hypothesised that if we find this tear, we can, through Ashanti’s portal-creation, open a doorway into the Void realm, find the source of Darkness, and eliminate it. Without it, the Tenebrae won’t be able to survive. This will be our goal. Ending the Tenebrae’s realm will be a huge step towards reasserting the equilibrium between Light and Dark, and the Divine’s power will once again be felt in the world.”

Ayane looked perplexed. “Portal-hopping into the Anti’s void realm? As creatures of Light? Isn’t that what he’d want?”

“We have the Divine’s protection, Their shield of Light. They’ll be looking after us.”

Lucas hesitantly raised his arm, blanching slightly as all eyes turned on him incredulously. Edward couldn’t hold back his smile. “Lucas?”

“So uh… so I know I’m not really part of all this, but will the Orders be involved? My mothe— uh, the Vice-Head of the Order of Magic, Elena Jones… will there be any danger for her? For us all?”

“The Orders will maintain equilibrium on Earth. Any Tenebrae that might escape their void through our portal will be dealt with by them. I’m sure Warlock Jones, who has successfully handled many dangerous missions, will not be in any danger that exceeds that which she has already faced before. However, there is one thing in your statement which isn’t accurate. You  _ are _ a part of this, Lucas. Alec hand-picked you as his representative because you have great potential. And with Alec being... _ Alec _ , and that is to say, never where you think he’ll be until the very last possible moment, you’ll be our source of Magic.”

“Isn’t my mother the most powerful Warlock after Alec himself though? Why me?”

“Elena is needed at the University, and her presence on Earth is vital. Plus, if you are to succeed her, this will be a great opportunity to learn.”

“I haven’t even finished Uni!”

“I admire your modesty, Lucas, but Alec took great pains to inform me about your prowess in your art. The decision is final.”

Lucas looked as if he were to speak again, but stopped, nodded once, and fell silent. Ian was looking at him, his face cool, his thoughts completely hidden. Edward sighed, and let his eyes fall on each face gathered there in turn. Lucas wouldn’t meet his eyes. Ian returned his gaze levelly, but his eyes were sharp and determined. Ayane’s eyes were troubled, but when they fell on her son, she smiled, a sad smile, but a proud one. Ian’s father, unexpectedly, was the one who broke the silence. “So I take it you found the tear?”

Edward blinked in surprise, and then nodded, regaining his composure. “Yes. We have actually found several, but the most promising one is the oldest of them all. The energy readings we got are much stronger than the rest, and it appears to be more stable. As Will correctly hypothesised, this came from one of the Progenitors as they first entered the world. These Guardians of Light, although with the good intention of protecting the world, did not realise that their very entry caused an imbalance between the opposing forces. The stable portal appears to be tied to Ashanti’s power, that of Creation. It seems to be our best chance.”

“Where is it?” Ian’s father leaned forward excitedly, his glasses pushed further askew.

“It’s in a place that used to be known as Tromsø, in Old Norway.”

“Old Norway.” Ian deadpanned. “Need I remind you that  _ Old _ Norway is-”

“-sunk beneath the sea?” Ian’s father finished, quaking in excitement.

“You are both correct. The portal is underwater. Which will not be a problem, need I remind you, when all Seven are gathered. Mauro de Medici and Leora Cohen, Heir and Vice-Head of the Order of Water respectively, will be of endless use when we reach the portal. But Mauro is stationed in Italia, on the shores of Lake Florence. First, before we travel off-land, I therefore came to you both first.”

Lucas did look up then. “Both? So this really wasn’t a coincidence.”

“Why did you not say?” Ian asked, puzzled. 

Edward sighed uncomfortably. “It was Elena’s wish,” he admitted finally. “She was insistent that Lucas join us for the duration of the mission, even before Alec independently asked you to accompany me as his representative. That’s as much as I can tell you, because that’s as much as she told me.” Edward half-sighed, half-chuckled. “She also said I’d end up messing up and telling you the entire thing.”

Lucas smiled despite himself. “She would say that.”

“She also suggested that once we get started, we are also accompanied by one of her best Healer warlocks. I believe you know him. Imeda Tsiklauri?” 

Lucas’ face lit up. “I do know him.” His shoulders seemed to relax, the tight coil of tension loosened slightly. “I  _ really _ need to talk to her now.”

“You’ll have a chance to do so soon. We’re gonna be stopping at Uni, rendezvousing with Ashanti and Alanna Zhao, Heirs of the Creation and Air aspects respectively. You’ll have ample time to talk to her then.”

“Who’ll be taking over their lectures?” Ian asked, actually curious. Trust Ian to worry about school when the world stood on the precipice of a supernatural war.

“The Heads of their respective Orders. Rehema has proven herself more than capable of lecturing in Ashanti’s position, and Julian Van de Berg will be resuming the classes he had taught before Alanna graduated last year and took over from him.”

Ayane spoke up for the first time in a while. “Who will you find next?”

“The new Heir of Time. Her name is Kashvi Datta, and she is still to undergo her induction ceremony. The power has already successfully passed to her from her father, the honourable Reyansh Datta. In two weeks time, she will become the Heir formally, and we will be present for the ceremony. As soon as it is over, we depart with her to Italia, where Mauro and Leora will be waiting. Then we travel north and cross over to Norway.”

Ian looked longingly at something on the wall. Edward followed his gaze to see an old poster that seemed to be an advert for aeroplanes. “I wish we could take a plane,” Ian said wistfully, answering Edward’s confused look.

“But...Ashanti can literally Portal us there?”

“Portalling is boring. Planes are  _ fun _ .”

Lucas, wearing a shit-eating grin and seeming to have briefly forgotten his troubles, piped up with, “You didn’t seem to find Portalling boring when Edward used it just minutes ago.”

Ian looked at him in affront, his eyes betraying his surprised amusement at the fact that Lucas seemed to possess a personality after all. He opened his mouth to answer, paused, and closed it again, and Lucas collapsed against the sofa, laughing. Ian, still pretending to be hurt, snuck a sideways glance at him, smiled briefly, and looked up, meeting Edward’s extremely smug smile. Ian discreetly flipped him off.

Edward cracked his knuckles and shifted on his seat, and that was all the indication needed for everyone to collectively understand that the discussion was over. Ian stood up and stretched, and Lucas had a completely unrelated coughing fit while Edward pretended not to notice the sudden commotion. He stood up and walked to Ayane and her nondescript husband, and gave them the pre-rehearsed speech, something about Ian’s safety not being 100% guaranteed, but that he will look after him to the best of his abilities, and that the mission will further the glory of Light. Ayane didn’t look convinced, but she also didn’t say anything to expressly forbid anything from happening. Edward knew that the Light descendancy in her family was very proudly displayed, and he knew that she was, to some extent, extremely pleased that she would be witnessing such an important mission be carried out by her own son. But a mother’s love goes beyond the promise of glory. 

“Thank you, Ed,” she said, finally, taking his hand in hers and holding it there. “Bring him back to me, whatever happens.”

Ed squeezed her hand. “I will.”

  
She let him go and stepped back, eyes falling on her son. He looked levelly back at her, and then walked up to her and hugged her tightly. Ayane hugged him back, her arms fitting around him perfectly, holding him in place as their breathing got ragged. Edward looked away, giving them their moment, and saw Lucas doing the same thing, his face pinched, perhaps realising that he would soon be leaving his own mother behind. Behind Edward, Ian was also hugging his father, reassuring him that when he came back, he’d regale him about all the places they would be travelling to. Then, he disappeared within the house, reappearing a few seconds later to ask Lucas to help him carry out his luggage. Before Edward could  _ gently _ remind him that this wasn’t a holiday and really, he needn’t pack his entire belongings, Lucas had already disappeared after Ian, and Edward sighed and sat back down. He hoped Lucas’ car was larger than it seemed to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of Part 1 is taken from Catullus V.


End file.
